The Boy Next Door

Chapter Eight

Maybe life is going too well, maybe God is favoring us. Nothing bad had happened besides my dreams. Jamie has healed, we always have food, no animal messes with us, and we have plenty of water. Over the last few days, the boy seemed less with us. He stays back, away, and all he does is eat, sleep, cook, and drink, and of course do his business.

I walk over to him now. His frame is skinnier, more slumped, depressed. He's no longer the happy, let loose boy I'd met before. I nudge him slightly and give him a questioning look. Ever since he learned about my tongue, he has been more attentive to my gestures and sounds of my grunts.

"Hey. You okay?" I nod and look at him seriously. "I know you've seen the change. I wish I can be that happy boy again. Seems like I grew a lot, bein' out here. I'm depressed. I don't ever wanna eat nothin', but I do so you can be reassured that I'm fine. Seems I haven't fooled ya. I just wanna sleep forever, ya know? Never wake up. That sounds like I have a death wish for myself, and I might as well have one, but I need some rest. I'm always tired."

I look at what he's cooking. Some sort of noodle. I know how to make noodles, he taught me. I point to his bed roll and give him a half push towards it.

"I'm cookin'. I cain't leave." Wow the shortest thing he's ever said. I shake my head, point at myself, then at the pot. He nods and heads to his bed. I stir the noodles and wait. I put the lid on while I get salt. I put two dashes if salt in the bubbling pot to help it stay calm. Another trick learned by him.

Just as dinner's done, he gets up and helps me serve despite my protesting grunts. I put a plate of fruits in front of Jamie. She eats hungrily.

"Hey, girly. Slow down. You want a tummy ache?" He doesn't know her name yet. I need to figure out how to tell him. I think I remember how to spell it in a book. How do you write letters though? I have no clue. I'll try.

I pat his arm and slowly crouch. He crouches with me and looks at the ground. I sloppily draw a shaky 'J'. Then an almost illedgable 'a'. Followed by a retarted 'm'. A perfect 'i'. Finally, a very misshapen 'e'.

"Janio? What?" I fix my letters as best I can. "Oh Jamie. Who's that?" I point to her. "Oh okay. Cool. I'll teach her her name." I nod a thanks. We eat and lay down.

"Ever wonder what happened to our families? After they woke up and we were gone? You never answered my question. Whose blood was that on you?"

This boy remembers everything. I could just tell him it was Mother's then again, I need a friend, not someone who's scared of me. I point to my self and shake my hand. It was kind of my blood, since I had gotten cut.

"Half was yours eh? From the cuts?" I nod. "Whose was the other person? Cat? Dog? Pet? Person? Family?" I nod at the last one. "Mom?" I nod again, hesitantly. He doesn't seem surprised. What can I do to surprise him?

"I've always wanted to kill my mother to be honest. She's just a total bitch. I never did get along with her. Like, she can walk into the same room as me and I automatically feel shitty. I just hate her. Hate is a strong word and all, but that's how I feel."

I noticed for the first time he gave me a speech and didn't ask a question. Damn, good for you boy. Wait what's his name? After almost a month and a half of living here he has never introduced himself and neither have I. Wow, talk about bad manners.

I never knew he thought of his mother like that. I thought all people love their mothers. I thought all were nice, all but mine. I nod slowly, showing him I know what he means.

"How did yer mom treat you? I know bad because you killed 'er. What'd she do?"

I make a fist and smash it into my open hand.